An Unexpected Landing

[Xander Dust]

Rick wandered the place before him, after the spaceship had landed. He had to get back to New Mexico, but since all he knew about the ship was that it headed to Earth, he could very well be anywhere, as he didn't recognize the place he was in. However, he could understand the murmuring surrounding him, with the vast gathering of people here on the landing site, so he hadn't landed in a country with another language at least. The people walked in unison, and Rick followed. Behind him, the spaceship he came from lifted off, and soon, became a dot in the sky.

Everyone started to drift off in different directions, until Rick had to stay without a group to follow. The signs he found on the way were generic enough, "Bathrooms", "Boarding Site", "Luggage", etc. None described where exactly he was. So he wandered. He had time to discover it, and if it didn't lead him anywhere, he could always ask. This place was lively enough that he wouldn't have to worry about not finding anyone.

The city before him was… peculiar. He couldn't tell if he had ever seen this kind of architecture, but he never paid much attention to that. Until now. The buildings appeared to be partially built from metallic sheets of different sizes and shapes. Some had colors, others were plain dark gray, but it gave the buildings a distinctive look he hadn't seen anywhere. As if they were using pieces of giant machines as building blocks. The cars too, while distinctively shaped as such, were of brands and designs Rick had never seen before. They didn't look neither retro nor futuristic, just… like alien cars. He wished he had a camera right now – this place was pretty interesting. Yet he still had no idea where he was.

Walking around the crowded streets, Rick passed through a marketplace of sorts. There were roofed stands selling different kinds of goods, all throughout the entire street. Maybe it was time to ask someone where he was, as well as a way to get to his actual destination.

Looking at the people selling goods, Rick quickly noticed many were not human. Aliens, some robots too. On Earth it was pretty rare to see this amount of diversity, unless one was in a big city. That must make finding a way home easy enough.

There was one seller though that picked Rick's attention. The stand he was guarding was selling food, with square plates of many different dishes neatly aligned, ready to serve. But the seller himself – he had his entire left arm replaced with a robotic one, with cables and pistons reaching a huge part of his torso as well. Was the prosthetic replacing some inner organs as well? Rick couldn't tell, but it looked like it.

Rick approached the cyborg seller.

"Welcome!" the seller said. "May I interest you in some coilure a la pesto? Maybe fried arkshamp? All for just 10 credits!"

The food smelled weird, but it was far from bad. Rick actually wanted to try some of these alien dishes.

"I have 20 dollars," Rick said. "Would that suffice?"

He showed the seller his money.

"Oh, I'm afraid not. We only accept credits or coin here. But what a peculiar kind of money. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Earth. Do you know where are we? My ship left me here, but was supposed to take me there."

"Earth? I have heard of it, but only through rumors. We're on Cevanti. Your planet must be very far away, since barely anyone here knows about it."

So he wasn't on Earth! That explains all the weird things he had noticed so far. Still, there were plenty of humans here, and no one has heard of Earth? That sounded weird.

"I see," Rick said. "However, there was something else I wanted to ask about, if you allow me."

"Of course! Go ahead." The seller said with a big smile, as he mixed some ingredients in a pot he was cooking. He was missing a few teeth, but that didn't detach from his hospitality.

"Your prosthetics… Are they internal too?"

"Oh, about that… They are! Got run over by a wild zoid many years ago, but the doctors of Markov built me straight anew!" His robotic hand started spinning, in a way a real hand couldn't do. "Takes some time to get used to it, but it's fine!"

"Alright. Thank you."

"You're welcome! And don't forget to come back here to try these delicacies once you get some money! I'll be waiting, every day from 10AM to 5PM!"

"Sure, thank you. Goodbye."

So, the doctors of this planet could rebuild half a person with robotic prosthetics. That was admirable.

Maybe they could treat Rick too.

He had to try. He was already here, he had the time. There was no reason he couldn't at least ask about it, even if he had no money to pay for it. But if they could treat him, then getting a job to pay for it for the time being would be trivial. He had already made peace with never racing again, but if he had the opportunity to go back to it? He would take it in a heartbeat.

 

[Xander Dust]

"Please wait, you'll be called soon," the secretary of the hospital said.

He had walked to the hospital, asking the people he found along the way for specific instructions. It was a considerable walk, but not enough to tire him out in the end.

He waited alongside the other patients in the waiting room. The place was quite spacious and sterile, not unlike an overly big lab, rather than a hospital. There were white and light blue walls with ceramics up until halfway through it, like a bathroom, throughout the entire waiting room, and presumably, the entire building. The lights were bright white tubes forming triangles hanging from the roof, one every few feet. The walls were mostly empty, save the occasional pamphlet with instructions about caring for oneself, as well as the usual signs one would expect at a hospital. Even the windows had the blinds closed, adding to the suffocating atmosphere. The smell of bleach and artificial perfumes certainly didn't help.

Finally, a doctor called Rick up. He followed her to her office. It was as bland and boring as the rest of the hospital, but at least it didn't have such a strong smell. The window was open, leaving a slight breeze to dance around the room.

"So, what can I help you with?" the doctor said. She had red, curly hair tied into a messy knot, as well as freckles in her face, decorated with oversized glasses.

"I'm looking to get treatment," Rick answered. "I had a car accident some time ago, and while I recovered fine, there are some… Issues persisting."

"I suppose those are neurological 'issues,' as you say, right?"

She was a neurologist, after all. That's what Rick asked for.

"Indeed. I had studies done on me, and I was told my brain doesn't respond well to stress now. I get dizzy, my vision goes blurry, and my body doesn't respond."

Admitting it felt so painful, like picking at an open wound. Maybe it was still open, as much as Rick tried to make peace with it.

"I see. When does it happen?" the doctor asked.

"I'm a racing pilot, so I started to notice it while driving at high speeds. But it has happened at other times as well. Like when I get angry."

She took a tablet and started writing notes on it. "A racing pilot? Interesting. Was it an accident at a race?"

Rick's teeth clenched. "Yes. But it was sabotage. The ship suddenly exploded. I didn't crash."

"No one is here to judge you. What was your name? Rick Thunderbolt?"

"Yes."

"Alright Rick. Do you have access to the studies the other doctor did on you?"

"Unfortunately, I don't. It was on another planet."

"That's fine, but we'll have to do new studies on this, to confirm exactly where the problem is."

"Do I have to pay for this?"

"You do, but we have plenty of payment plans to help you out. The secretary will fill you in. Do you have anything else to add? Before I authorize the study."

"No, I do not."

"Alright. You can do it tomorrow morning, at 10AM. It's on the 3rd floor, you can walk directly to it and give the secretary there this–" she wrote something on a real piece of paper this time, and gave it to Rick. He couldn't understand a single word spelled there.

"Well," the doctor followed, "once the study is done, come here and knock on this very office – no need to wait. I will check it out and we can work from there."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Rick. Have a nice day."

"Likewise."

Rick left the room.

So, he had to wait until tomorrow. Which was a problem, since he was stranded on an alien planet with no money to even pay for dinner, let alone a night at a hostel.

He had to get a job right now.

.
.
.

After hours of searching and asking around, he found somewhere he could work at. It was a delivery agency, which took trucks filled with metal scraps and transported them to specific addresses. He was told the job was dangerous (which may explain why they needed a new driver so badly that they would take the first person claiming to know how to drive trucks), but the job paid per delivery, and Rick had a bed to earn and a doctor to pay, so he took the job. They gave him a truck, the keys for it, and a map with the addresses he needed to deliver to.

"Don't worry," said his new boss – a short man with an impressive mustache. "The soldiers will protect you at the loading site. Those wild zoids may look scary, but they're useless against our barrier."

Rick looked at the map. There was a giant, green circle around the city. The loading site was outside the circle. Rick raised an eyebrow, but accepted it.

"And what if I do find a 'wild zoid'?" Rick asked.

"Take the truck and run. Don't let it get chipped, or you'll pay for it. Anyway, get going! We're behind on the schedule!"

"Alright."

Rick still didn't know what a wild zoid was. This was the second time it got mentioned, and they did appear to be dangerous, if they had injured the cyborg seller enough to need his entire torso replaced. But Rick was a good – no, excellent – driver, he knew how to avoid other cars without crashing, all at high speeds. He doubted this truck would be able to reach such speeds though, but he trusted what the boss said, that the soldiers would protect him.

Well, if they needed the military itself, as well as an entire barrier around the city, to protect from these zoids, they must be a big deal. But Rick could handle it. Of course he could.

The trip to the loading site was fairly quiet. The engine of this truck made little sound, and it responded very well at being steered, alongside stopping and accelerating. It was a joy to drive – not as good as his old Rifter back home, but good enough for a job about avoiding "wild zoids", whatever they were. The city didn't have much traffic in these zones, so driving was fairly easy. He had to stop to check the map every so often though, which was annoying, but he could manage. What he couldn't manage was how to operate the radio. He pressed many buttons, but none made it play music. Oh well… Just a silent ride through the sunset city of Markov.

 

[Xander Dust]

This place was a wasteland. Beyond the barrier Rick passed through a few moments ago, the entire area seemed like out of a warzone. Collapsed buildings dotted the landscape, as well as a few different huge creatures with hard carapaces – wait, were they giant robots? It seemed like it. But they still looked distinctively organic in some way. Just where Rick was parked, there were a few of these monsters, all dead, resting over the few strands of grass that managed to survive.

Around the dead monsters, there were a few soldiers, all wearing a dark uniform. They had a giant robot of their own, but it was different from the creatures. It was blocky, with guns mounted around the cockpit, painted with the same colors as the uniform the soldiers wore. The name of the robot was imprinted in bright, white letters, “AR - 203.”

“You’re finally here,” said one of the soldiers at the loading site. He wore the same dark uniform, and had blond hair with bright, red glasses.

“I came as fast as I could. If you have a complaint, tell the old man, not me.” Rick shrugged. He had already left the truck, and was standing beside it.

“I guess so,” said the soldier, while scratching the back of his head. “There’s a shortage of people willing to take the job.”

“I was wondering why. Are these ‘wild zoids’?”

“Never seen one up close? They’re quite vicious. But with this baby,” the soldier patted the military mecha. “They’re nothing but scrap metal.”

“Let’s finish this!” Said another soldier. She was taller than most of them, with her hair tied in a tight ponytail. “I don’t want to keep waiting to get rid of these things.”

“What should I do, exactly?” Rick asked.

“You? Nothing! We’ll take care of the loading,” the blond soldier said.

The female soldier jumped up to the cockpit of the mecha, and soon enough, it started to move. With its arms, she took the dead zoids and put them in the empty trailer of the truck. The machine had no problems with their weight, pulling them out of the ground like they were pebbles.

The truck was now loaded with the dead zoids.

“One question,” Rick said.

“Sure.”

“Where are we taking these?”

“You… don’t know where you have to take them?” The soldier looked perplexed.

“I do, I have a map, but I’m kind of new in this city. So, you fight these monsters, I load them and take them… Where, exactly? What do they do with their corpses?”

“Plenty of things, but mostly they’re the building blocks of many machines and other paraphernalia. I know they also study them, but at this point I’m pretty sure they know all there is to know about them. But who knows, I’m not a scientist.”

The mecha’s cockpit opened, and its soldier said, “Hey! You better hurry! There’s another zoid coming in this direction!”

“Oh shit,” the blond soldier said. “Get out of here!” He had a rifle hanging from his waist, which he took and aimed to the distance.

Rick climbed to the truck’s driver seat and ignited the engine. From the mirror, he could see another of those monsters coming. It was huge, made with dark purple metal, its shape looking distinctively avian. The mecha, as well as the soldiers around the zone started firing their weapons at it, but the creature flew around their laser bullets.

"Oh shit" indeed. Rick pushed the accelerator as deep as it allowed, but the truck’s speed was nothing compared to the bird zoid. It was flying towards him, maybe to avenge its brethren?

Not that far from there, there was the barrier around the city. He knew it was there to protect them from the zoids, so maybe if the truck hurried up, he would do it to safety there. The soldiers were trying to take down the monster, and some bullets did hit it, but it was not enough to stop its flight into Rick’s truck.

The monster was getting closer, and the stupid truck couldn’t keep up with it. But the barrier was close enough. However, there was a building directly on his path, right behind the barrier. If he kept going at these speeds, he would crash as soon as he entered it. But he couldn’t afford to slow down, he had a monster behind his tail!

Rick’s vision went dark for a moment, then slowly came back as blur. He could feel his leg giving up on the accelerator, as well as his hands losing their grip on the steering wheel. Goddamnit! This wasn’t the moment to lose himself!

From his peripheral vision, he saw an explosion in the mirror. The bird had been shot – it wasn’t flying anymore, but its forward momentum still pointed toward Rick’s trajectory. It was falling now, ready to crash with the truck.

Rick’s vision went dark again. However, knowing how close he was to the barrier, and with all the strength he had left, he snapped the steering wheel to the side, and lifted up the hand brake. The truck violently turned around, the wheels sliding through the torn down street with a high screak noise. He heard a crash. But nothing happened to him. Slowly, his vision came back again, and he saw the zoid crashed at the barrier. He made it. And he was a few feet away from the collapsed building in his path. The truck was safe.

Great! He did it!

A wave of tiredness washed over Rick. He let go of his hands from the steering wheel – they were shaking. He could barely feel his body, and his vision was still a bit blurry. His breath was heavy and jagged. He took a moment to rest, to wait for his body to go back online.

Soon enough, he heard a voice.

“Are you alright?” It was the blond soldier. “You didn’t crash, right?”

Slowly, Rick gave the soldier a thumbs up. “I’m fine.”

“Yo, that was sick! My mom wished I could park like that!” He laughed.

“Well, I wasn’t lying when I told the old man that I knew how to drive.”

“Straight out of a movie! I hope that zoid doesn’t convince you to give up the job. You did amazing.”

“Hehe…”

Rick still felt winded down, but slowly, his composure came back. Chatting with the soldier was a bit harder than it should have been, and he wished he would leave Rick alone for a bit, but he wouldn’t tell him that.

The soldier didn’t seem to notice Rick’s condition, as he left to attend his soldier duties without saying anything about it. Once his body started working again, he turned back up the truck, and went to his next destination.

Beside the monster attack, the entire ride to unload the zoid corpses was quiet and devoid of complications. His body didn’t betray him again, and he could finish his job in time. When he came back to where the old man had given him the truck to receive his paycheck, Rick avoided talking about the zoid attack.

The man inspected the truck, gave him the thumbs up, and told him to come back tomorrow. Rick wasn’t sure if this was the right job for him, at least, until he could find a treatment for his condition, but the paycheck of that one trip was enough to rent a (cheap) place for a week, so he took it. Maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to deal with more monsters.

 

[Xander Dust]

The next day, he went back to the hospital to do the study. It went easy enough, he just had to sit still while a machine did a few spins around his head. After that, the results were in. They sent them to the doctor, and Rick went to see her again. She told him the same as the old doctor did, but instead of telling him his condition was incurable, she said he should see “Richard Harris,” a specialist working at Cytokine Industries, since they were testing a program that may help Rick. How exactly he couldn’t tell, nor why he was being sent to what appeared to be a robotics lab, but he reserved his questions to the “engineers.”

He did as he was told, and by walking a fair bit, he reached a huge building that said “Cytokine Industries” on an obelisk beside the main entrance. He had to ask around to find his new doctor, until the directions he was following led him to a robotics lab. All sorts of weird machines were on display over the counters and the floor, but they all looked organic, like the zoids Rick worked to deliver. And not just organic, but human-like.

Rick wasn’t liking where this was going.

There was a professor in the lab, too consumed by her work on a computer to pay attention to Rick.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Rick said.

The professor suddenly stood from her chair to receive Rick. She looked surprisingly like the neurologist at the hospital. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you coming. What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for Richard Harris. Here–” He showed her a note the doctor gave him, which authorized Rick to even be here in the first place, as these labs were out of reach for most people.

“Did Dana Vermont send you here?”

“I never got to know her name, but I suppose you’re talking about the neurologist at the public hospital?”

“That’s her. She’s my sister. Why did she send you here?”

Ah… Rick hated having to explain his situation, especially to people who didn’t need to know about it...

“I have a neurological issue,” Rick said, “and she told me they could help me treat it here. But this is a robotics laboratory. Do you have brain doctors here?”

“Oh, we do, in fact. She must be talking about the Neuro Nanites project. ‘NN project’ for short.”

“Neuro Nanites project?”

“We inject micro robots into the brain of the subject, and with a port in the spinal cord, allows the subject to control machines as if they were their own body. But it’s still in the testing phase.”

“And you think this ‘project’ would help me out?”

“The nanites can override certain functions of the brain if needed, so I think that’s why Dana sent you here, specifically. What is the issue, exactly?”

That was starting to make more sense. If Rick understood correctly, if these nanites could override his brain in the cases where it would shut down, it could work as a treatment. But he didn’t like the idea of needing micro robots installed in his brain for it.

“Wait, I was told to see Richard Harris,” Rick added.

“Ah, that’s fine. He’s directing the NN project. He’s in his office at this hour. You follow the corridor until the last room. That’s his office.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“See you soon!”

Rick followed the corridor to Harris’ office. Knocking the door did nothing. When he was about to knock a second time, someone opened the door. It was a small man, not unlike Don Wei, but younger, with an unkept beard.

“Yes?” He said.

“Are you Richard Harris?”

“The very same! I’m a bit busy at the moment, do you need something?”

“I was sent here from the public hospital by their lead neurologist.” Rick was getting tired of explaining himself, but luckily, this should be the last time. “I was told I could get treatment here, and I needed to talk with you about it.”

“Ah, I see! Come in. What’s your name?”

“I’m Rick,” he said, as he entered the office. It was covered in plants, with a single desk supporting a computer, alongside some other artifacts.

Richard sat down on his chair behind the desk, and offered Rick to take one for himself. There were a few chairs sitting beside the wall. Rick picked one and sat in front of the desk.

“I will go straight to the point, Rick. We don’t treat patients here. But I’m assuming you were sent here for a reason.”

“That’s what I’m wondering. The woman at the lab talked about the NN project, which you run. Is it really related to what I need?”

“It could be. What did the doctor tell you?”

“Not much. Just to come here.”

“And do you have any tests done on you that I can see? I can’t think of a reason you would be here beside Dana sending you to become one of our test subjects.”

Rick crossed his arms, and leaned a back on the chair. “Me neither. But she did a study on me. The code to see it is HR9086.”

Richard hummed something, and started looking at something on his computer. Eventually, he said, “I see.”

“Well, can you treat me or not?”

“We can, but only as a test subject of the NN project. The nanites are designed for a military soldier, and overrides the adrenaline response for a better performance in high stress situations. Which is exactly where your problem lies, am I right?”

That didn’t sound too great. Were they going to turn Rick into a military cyborg?

“It is, I believe,” Rick finally said.

Richard scratched the back of his head. “Are you a soldier? Why would you need such an intervention designed for the military?”

“I’m a racing champion. And I want to go back to racing, if it’s possible.”

“Ah, that makes more sense. And you hadn’t been able to drive all this time?”

“Only at actual races. I can drive fine in the city.”

“I see. Alright, Rick, we can note you as a test subject for the NN project, if that’s fine with you.”

Getting injected micro robots in his brain designed for soldiers… to be able to return to racing once more. It sounded crazy, but Rick really wanted to get rid of his condition.

“I’m in,” Rick said.

“Alright, we have some topics to discuss then. The surgery isn’t dangerous, at least, we hadn’t had a single issue stemming from it in all our trials. However, when the nanites are working, you could feel strange side effects. We found out they dimmed after a while, but you should be warned of it first.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“Dizziness, fainting once the nanites deactivate, sudden depression, among others.”

Rick leaned forward. “And they disappear after a while?”

“Yes, although I’m not sure if completely. But you should be able to do your thing, then rest for a bit, and everything should be back to normal again.”

Even with side effects, this looked promising. It should be better than blacking out in the middle of a race.

“Are there long term side effects?” Rick asked.

“We don’t know. The project is too new to tell, so there’s a risk here you should know about.”

“I see.”

“There’s also a price for this. This project is a military secret, and we’re not open to civilians. But, if you pay for it…”

“I get it, I get it. How much?”

“1,500,000 credits.”

Rick sighed. “I guess I won’t get to be a cyborg then.”

Richard chuckled. “But, if you were to sign to become a soldier, we could do this without any added monetary issues.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You can do the service for four months, and then leave. We’ll do the surgery before then, but you need to sign up for it, or else, we can’t go forward.”

That didn’t sound as great. Rick never wanted to become a soldier, that sounded terrible.

But, if it was the only way to do it…

“Do I have to go to the barracks to sign for it?” Rick asked.

“You have, but you can sign the consent form here before doing that.”

This felt wrong, somehow.

Rick signed the consent form, officially starting his partnership with Cytokine Industries.

 

[Xander Dust]

The surgery was programmed for next week. Rick will have to do some extra studies to ensure he was in good condition to go ahead, but both him and Richard were sure Rick was in excellent shape, so it was more of a formality. Just in case. But he would do those studies the same day for the surgery, at their private labs, so Rick wouldn't have to worry about schedules. Likewise, he already talked with the hiring secretary at the military HQ and explained his situation – they had enlisted him (which was necessary to approve the surgery), but will wait until he would recover to officially start the bootcamp.

Rick wondered if it really was the right choice. Theoretically, he should be able to go back to racing in a few months, once the military bootcamp was completed, but what if the surgery went wrong? This was brain surgery. Richard reassured him that they had the best doctors on the planet, but would that be enough? There was always a risk associated with these procedures. Besides, the surgery involved installing a chip in his spinal cord to control the nanites. Rick wasn't an expert on anatomy, but even he knew messing up with that was incredibly risky. What if it went wrong, and he had to be bedridden for the rest of his life? Just the thought of having to do that for the recovery of the surgery itself sounded excruciating. And all of this so he could race again. Which wasn't guaranteed.

But he already signed the consent forms. Rick also didn't like that Richard didn't give him much time to think, but it could've been his own anticipation playing against him. He didn't think through the whole ordeal at the moment, but at the same time, he was excited to try. As scary as it sounded, he really couldn't fathom living a peaceful life.

These thoughts were all bouncing around Rick's mind on his way to the next loading site.

Well, now he was a few blocks away from his next trip. Driving in silence was a sure way to meet one's own mind. If only he could make the radio work – this was the third time he forgot to ask the old man how to do it, before picking up the truck.

Rick shook his head, his long hair landing in awkward places around his shoulders. He had to think straight for his next job. No time for pointless ruminating. What was done, was done. He could take it.

Unlike most of his evening trips, this one was early in the morning. Apparently, there had been another battle yesterday, but they were probably delayed somehow. In any case, Rick has been called now, and he needed the money and had nothing better to do, so he took the job.

The zoid he had to load was huge this time. It had a vaguely feline shape, with giant armor all over it. It was too big to fit in the truck, so some soldiers were disassembling it for easier transportation. This gave Rick some time, but he refused to go back to his surgery thoughts. Outside the truck, and while leaning his weight on the cabin door with his arms crossed, Rick observed his surroundings.

There weren't as many soldiers as other times. Rick didn't like that – what if he got attacked again? Last time, it was a miracle he managed to keep both himself and the truck intact. He frowned. This place for sure didn't care about safety. And Rick was an adrenaline junkie, which must mean something.

Speaking of safety, among the soldiers, there was a young lad inspecting the dead zoid. He looked young enough, not a kid but not an adult either. He had shining blond hair, or was it an illusion brought by the sun? Regardless, this place wasn't suited for kids. And the soldiers were not doing anything about it, as if they were used to him hanging around with them outside the city's forcefield.

After waiting for a while, and seeing that nothing happened, Rick approached the blond lad.

"What's a young lad like you doing here?" Rick asked him. His tone was one of curiosity more than trying to scold him, but Rick's stern frown probably didn't help.

The lad turned around. "Ah, you must be here to pick up the zoid."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "That I am. But you don't look like a soldier."

"I'm an inventor for the Pilot's Union. My friend and I were out scavenging, and were wondering if you could give us a ride back to Markov?"

"Sure. But I have a schedule and a circuit, so I might be able to do it after I deliver these corpses." He crossed his arms. "An inventor, huh? How old are you?"

The lad looked a bit puzzled. He frowned. "Eighteen, currently. I've been tinkering with stuff since I was very young."

He didn't look eighteen, but Rick wouldn't press out someone for something like that. If he said he was an eighteen year old inventor, then he was.

"I see," Rick said. Then, he smiled. "You must be very good then, with all those years of experience." He gave the lad a thumbs up.

"Hmm..." It took a while for the kid to respond, his mind deep in thought for sure. "I hope you're right."

"Everything ready!" Said one of the soldiers loading the zoid. From where the monster stood, he jumped out of it into the grassy field. Unlike the other soldiers, this one didn't have a uniform. His clothes were a bit revealing for a soldier.

"Come here, lad!" Rick said, turning around to face the truck. "We're about to leave."

"Okay!" The blond lad said. "Reyn, are you ready?"

The soldier with the weird uniform wiped the sweat off his brow and said "Yeah, I'm ready..."

The two of them walked toward the passenger's seat, only to find that this man's truck is a 2-seater. They looked at each other awkwardly.

Reyn spoke first. "I guess I can take the back, with metal-mouth there?"

"I could just sit in between the seats. Is that alright with you, er..." The blond lad scratched his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"That's fine. And I'm Rick. Didn't know you had a buddy. Your name?"

"I'm Reyn," Reyn says, "and this here is Shulk."

"Nice to meet you, Rick!"

Shulk climbed in and sat between the driver's and passenger's seat, crouched into a fetal position with his head not too far from the roof of the truck. Before long, he found himself sandwiched between Rick and Reyn.

Rick ignited the engine. The huge puppy roared with a low rumble.

 

[Shulk]

They drive through the woods as beams of light stream through the holes in the canopy. That gentle purr of the truck's muffled engine soothes Shulk's ears as he follows along with the conversation. Reyn's arms are resting on the scrap driver, currently placed between his legs so it can fit in the passenger's seat. Rick's at the wheel, eyes focused on the road through his sunglasses. Shulk can't quite understand why he wears them, at this hour; it's sundown, and the shadows of the building should be enough to keep the daylight from blinding him. Perhaps it's just fashion?
"I haven't seen you before," Reyn admits. "Are you new to Markov?"

"I am," Rick says. "I've arrived a few days ago, in fact. Supposedly, I was to land on Earth, but the spaceship took me here instead." He nods, glancing at Shulk with a smirk. "I suppose you two are from around here. You seem to know your way around those monsters."

"We're from Erde Nona. Came to Cevanti to help Markov keep on kicking. Shulk's working with the boys in the lab, and I'm in the army with Dunban and Fiora, driving mechs and fighting on the field to keep those metal mudders away."

"You're a soldier?"

"You bet." Reyn punches his hand, brimming with confidence. "We're the ones that took down that monster you've got in the back!"

"I bet those scraps didn't stand a chance!" Rick said, impressed.

A brief pause came over the conversation. Before long, Rick's smirk shifts into a light frown.

"I will be joining you soon. I already enlisted, but I gotta do some stuff before then. Who knows, maybe we get assigned to the same team. Driving scraps is a temporal thing."

Shulk interjects. "Ah, we'll see a lot more of you in the coming future, then?"

"Perhaps."

Rick doesn't look too happy about his announcement, after having said it. Shulk isn't entirely sure why; the Pilot's Union has been doing good work to protect the citizens of Markov from outside dangers and promote resettlement of greater Cevanti.

Perhaps he's a pacifist? Shulk thinks. He doesn't look the type, but that doesn't always account for much.

It doesn't take long to reach one of the research facilities of Cytokine Industries, at the pace the truck can make. This stretch of Markov is fairly well kept, a rare sight in this city of slums. The buildings are maintained and look as good as new, and the street is freshly paved. The architecture is reminiscent more of the City of Hope, futuristic with a bent toward utopian optimism. In a single glance, it was immediately indicative of the company which effectively owned this stretch of land; the influence of Cytokine gives those in its immediate circle a lot of benefits, even down to the quality of their neighborhoods.

Rick puts the truck in reverse and slowly backs into a small warehouse on the side. Sirens echoes throughout as large machines, built to move large pieces of metal, whirr to life and begin offloading the zoid's decoupled parts.

"You'll have to hang out a bit more there, Shulk."

"Oh, no, it's alright! It's fine, I'll just... try and get a bit more comfortable..."

Of course, Shulk isn't so sure he can. Honestly, right now he's just aching to get out of this truck. He can't help but imagine how comfortable Reyn was right now. Nonetheless, he tried to shimmy about in place to get the cramp in his butt to go away.

"I knew I shoulda got in the back..." Reyn shakes his head.

"Well," Rick says, "we can't get off the truck while they're working. If you want to move to the back, you'll have to wait. Until then, how's the training treating you, Reyn?"

"It's easier than the defense force back at our home," Reyn answered. "Ol' Squaretache would make us do a hundred press-ups for the smallest of things, back then."

"Oh, you mean the defense force colonel?" Shulk replied.

"Yeah. Vangarre." The others can see Reyn's face clench in pain. "I haven't met anyone like that in the Pilot's Union, but it ain't easy either. Had a fair few rough mornings, after a tough drill session..."

"I don't envy you, there..." Shulk grimaces.

Rick says "Oh, tell me about it. I had a manager who would fire our mechanics on the spot for the dumbest things. Eventually, I left his loser team." Rick chuckled to himself. "He could never fire me, of course."

A team manager? Something about that seems off, to Shulk. Was Rick that good or reliable of a truck driver, that he was somehow less replaceable than the mechanics which keep him on the road? Or was he talking about something else?

"Rick, what exactly did you do, back on... Earth, was it?"

The grin that came on Rick's face was something else. "I was a racer."

"A racer?" Reyn leaned over Shulk's lap, making him lean back against the window.

"Yes, and not only that, but as a champion!"

"Pull the other one!"

"Won the Grand Prix three years in a row. Good times."

Rick chuckles to himself. His entire atmosphere radiates a glow of satisfaction. The sheer pride he feels is downright palpable. Not that he doesn't deserve it, either; Shulk could only dream of such recognition for his own work.

"Wow," Shulk exclaims, "that's really something! You'll have to show us what you can do, sometime!"

"Maybe one day," Rick says. The light gleams against his grin, for a brief moment, as they round the corner.

"We have someone like that, as well! He's a swordsman named Dunban."

"He fights with a sword? Why not a gun?"

"Tradition? Preference, maybe? I don't know, I never thought to ask."

"But the way that man wields a blade," Reyn continues, "you couldn't even beat him with a mech.

"Sounds cool. Maybe I'll need to meet him as well."

Before long, the sirens and the machines shut down, signaling that they are good to go. Rick puts the truck back into drive, and the trio head off into the streets of Markov.

"So, where should I leave you, kids? I have to do some more trips, but we can pretend our current one got 'delayed.'"

Shulk answers. "If you can take us to the Pilot Union, we can make it home from there. Thanks again for the transport."

"Alright."

It takes less than a mile for the idyllic block they were on to give way to the more common and familiar slums. A pang of sorrow rings out within Shulk's heart, at the thought of the people who suffer here, and the lives they could be living if only circumstances were different. If only there was something he can do...

His train of thought is broken by Rick breaking the silence they'd found themselves in. "Shulk, have you invented anything yet?"

Shulk's face grows bright with enthusiasm. "I have! In fact, we have one of my inventions in the truck right now!"

As Shulk explains, Reyn takes the gunblade in his lap and lifts it up a bit. "This is an experimental weapon of my design. We've taken to calling it the 'scrap driver'. It's still a work in progress, but it's sufficient for use as is, and shouldn't be much longer before it's ready for deployment."

"Interesting. Maybe I'll get to see it soon enough."

After that comment, they travel in silence for a bit. Rick looks over at Shulk, from time to time. It isn't entirely obvious to Shulk, but it almost seems as if he's peeking glances at the sword he has on his back. The red one from the ruins, which glew with a mysterious light when he held it by the handle. It's making sitting between the two seats even more uncomfortable than it normally would have been.

"Shulk, is that sword... one of your inventions?"

"No, we found it in some ruins not far from the clearing."

Rick’s face looks disgruntled, confused. "It looks too blunt to cut anything."

"It's strange, isn't it? I'm thinking it might be some sort of ceremonial sword, but I can't say for sure yet."

This, of course, is a baldfaced lie. Rick seems nice, but the things this sword did... the things it did to him... well, they were beyond explanation. It wouldn't be good for information about it to leak out into the public in its current state, especially if someone out there were more familiar with it and knew how to put it to malicious use.

Rick must be able to read Shulk like a book, as he immediately asked "Is that all there is to it?"

"Sorry... I'd rather not say. It's too soon to say anything conclusive about it."

Reyn interjects, to Shulk's defense. "The lab like to keep a lid on sensitive business."

"Ah." Rick nods with understanding. "We can keep quiet for now, I won't pry into your business. We're coming up on your stop, anyway."

The truck pulls up to the main entrance to the Pilot's Union base. Everything here is relatively close by, no more difficult to access the standard facilities than one would on a college campus. Reyn gets out of the truck, and Shulk follows suit, stretching his legs as he's freed from the confines of an improvised seating position.

The two say their farewells to Rick, and watch him drive off for a time before taking the mysterious red sword to the lab.